


Almost got 'im

by TheBlackCatCrossing



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight (2008)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 02:26:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackCatCrossing/pseuds/TheBlackCatCrossing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing more dangerous than a clown scorned. Batman/Joker. One shot. The Dark Knight. Nolanverse. R/R!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost got 'im

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in July 2008. Characters do not belong to me. They belong to DC Comics/Warner Brothers.

Title: Almost got 'im

Rating: M

Genre: Romance, drama, psychological

Warnings: Adult themes, references to violence

Pairing: Bruce/Joker

Disclaimer: I do not own. DC and Warner Bros. do.

After a night on patrol which yielded results in the form of a prevented assault in a dark alley and a drug bust, Batman called it a night. He landed swiftly on top of his lost which overlooked the city. Like little candles lighting his way, the bare flickers reminded him of the small bit of progress that was returned to the city after decades of abuse and corruption. Gotham City breathed a little more easily now. But like anyone who always saw the world with a glass half empty point of view, there was still work to be done. The cops could take care of the small fry and he had to turn in for an eight AM meeting at Wayne Tower.

He needed a few hours of rest.

For the last few weeks, he had had both Alfred and Lucius make excuses for him and they usually involved the usual round trip to the Swiss Alps with an heiress from either Milan, Moscow, or Dubai. It worked all the time but it wouldn't hurt to show up for a weekly check up on how Wayne stock was doing on Wall Street.

‑

He rid himself of the armor that generated excess sweat on his spandex which was used to help him move more nimbly as he hung from rooftops, sky scrapers and balconies. His cowl was sticky against his face and he felt that he could breathe more easily when he finally moved it passed his nostrils and behind his nest of jet black hair. A shower was in order to remove any excess grime and body liquids from himself.

The heat from the water soothed his strained muscles and lessened the tension that stormed in his mind. Night in and night out, these criminals became more and more sophisticated, it was as if as soon as he arrived on the scene, their strategies changed to more complex measures so as to avoid being caught under his shadow. It bothered him a lot. It meant that the cops were not doing enough. Lieutenant Gordon was the only shining light after Loeb kicked the bucket. Even if the change was still green, it was still not enough. More than half the times he felt as if he was babysitting them for their short comings.

He turned around to let the hot steam and water hit him on his back, creating a tingle that felt like thousands of little hands massaging his back. Slowly, but not completely the stress evaporated into the air like the mist from a hot spring.

He let out a low sigh, out of relaxation and release. It had been a long night that had in turn blurred over a week. Lazy mobsters who forgot to misplace their license plates, a lazy layman who left the door unlocked. Some of these patrols yielded peanuts. On one hand, it was like knowing the back of one's hand, even as difficult as it looked, but no one, nothing would ever prepare him, not even the encounters with Scarecrow and Ras al Ghul could ever prepare him for the meeting of a lifetime. This man was more slippery than a snake on the Amazon River. His speed was second to none. His ability to manipulate seemingly random objects and pinpoint them to his next phase under one neat package rivaled his own.

It was an art form in it of itself.

He was like a White Ghost from Hell.

His curls were seaweed green, which gave him a dirty grungy look of a punk, a wild dog of the streets. It looked unwashed and ratty, as he recalled. He looked like a walking chemical waste dump belched out from the depths of trash.

His skin was normal but used chalky white face on his profile. It looked as though he put on his makeup in the dark, judging by the incredibly messy, probably on purpose, way he applied red lipstick all over his mouth. It was used to enhance the scars on the sides of his lips which enhanced his curved blemish. It was used to fit his clown motif via a carved smile.

It looked like an image from Robert William's personal nightmares come to life.

The Joker was a new breed of animal that superceded any previous encounters with what he thought were the worst that the world had to offer. Joker's arrival changed all the rules.

‑

One by one, he cherry picked his targets and in a thinly weaved plan, he tied them all together. There was no reason. To prove a point was as far as the caped crusader could go.

He was dangerously chaotic and frustratingly vague. That did not mean that He had his own set of rules. It was just that the one's offered by His surrounding habitat did not apply to Him. He was a master of chaos, the puppeteer of pandemonium. Joker had his own logic applied to his pieces, usually human, like bits of a chessboard.

Joker was the kind of man who would explain a seemingly complex web and explain it in layman terms. The Batman had gotten note that Joker had gotten hold of Harvey before he blew up Gotham General to smithereens. He explained to the DA that once you upset the established order, chaos reigns. Like dropping a crocodile in the middle of a herd of gazelle, who's fault was it if they got maimed in the process? The croc for reacting naturally or the antelope because they failed to get out of the way?

Or better yet, if Joker was a earthquake, it was not his fault that people who lived on fault lines lost their homes. At least that is how he saw it.

He was sophisticated and yet, he was simple.

Rules were only used to tame. It was a delicate flame and Joker would be more than happy to blow out.

Like sketches from a child's doodle, Joker's modus operandi revealed a mind that knew exactly what he was doing. This was not a rabid dog accosting innocent bystanders. This was a foaming animal who still had his cognitive abilities intact and used it to his advantage.

To him, people were chess pieces and he was a social animal only when he needed to be. Joker was as much of a people person as Michael Vick was a friend of PETA.

Batman turned the knob, making the watershed lessen its impact until it petered down into nothing. He dried himself off as he retired to his room. The canopy bed was tempting him to rest his head between the soft pillows. The silky sheets lured him to rest his weary head. Bruce put on a pair of cotton pajamas. It was too hot to sleep with anything else. He lay down and pondered at the day's comings and goings, rewinding every detail and nuance so that he could use on his next perambulation. What kind of gun, what hand that person used, what accent he had so that he could trace him down to a gang. These were the kinds of minutiae that the Dark Knight soaked up like a sponge. It would help in time sensitive cases and cold ones.

It was a little after three AM. Alfred must have been well into his slumber. He did manage to fix him up a turkey and cheese sand which on rye, but the Dark Knight was too tired to eat and decided that the snack would be better fit for a morning meal.

‑

Above his head, the window over looked the city. Tiny lights shone here and there like glittering diamonds. Blue hues peered through the glass overhead like shadow. The indigo seduced his eyelids in an attempt to invite the Sandman for an early visit. Bruce took a deep breath before he allowed his body to relax. He turned to his side and pressed the pillow with his arm, holding tightly for it was the only bit of control he could muster for now.

That was until the sound of shattering glass was heard and broke his beta sleep. Bruce snapped awake and hoisted himself upright, looking straight ahead into the darkness. His heart raced and his breathing quicked. Someone was in here. He could feel an intrusive presence in the midst. It was so dark. He usually welcomed it but now it was a curse upon him. He tied listening for any disturbance. If he could not see it, best make due with the other senses. He heard nothing, except for the sound of footsteps coming close to his double bed. The steps were slow and meticulous, like they knew what they were doing if they wanted to raise the cortisol levels of its victim. They were sharp and crisp. Whoever this was, they wanted him to hear them.

"Wh-who's there?" The Batman muttered with as much control as he could.

No answer. The intruder was teasing him.

It was not a dream as he could see the shattered glass on the floor with some debris on his bed. He proceeded to grab a large jagged piece into his hands when the sound of low chuckling pierced his ears and reined his stomach in.

No

It could not be.

Not him.

"That was for pushing my head on the table at the police quarters. Twice," the sharp pitched voice responded. He was still hiding in the shadows but he could see a silhouette of some sort a few feet in front of him.

"What are you doing here? Why are you here?" he spat acridly.

"Do we have too much earwax or are we deaf?" the voiced responded, laced with poison in its tone.

Police head quarters. Head…push?

Oh God. That meant….

"What do you want?" the playboy responded using the voice associated with his alter ego. He could see the figure in the dusk smile.

‑

"That's more like it," the high pitched tone replied. It was then that he made his move. Using his feet first, the Clown Prince emerged from the gloom and emerged like some grotesque surprise to greet his captor. White skin shone against the darkness that outlined him.

"Nice surprise, isn't it?" the white fleshed demon responded.

The Batman stared ahead at the uninvited guest, not wanting to give him anything that he might exploit to his use.

"Well, hey, don't be rude. I am just trying to make conversation!" The Joker cackled. "Oh, I forgot you are the strong and silent type. I can respect that. You know what they say about you mutes, still waters run deep, blah blah blah…" He proceeded to walk towards the bed before he turned to the right and talked to himself.

The sound of his intonation was as welcoming as the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

"What do you want?" Bruce barked back. At this point, the clown stopped point blank and gazed back at the unmasked and half naked Batman sitting on the bed. The green haired man's eyebrows arched up into one of curious poise.

"I want a paid vacation to Maui, I want to know why Giselle Bundchen isn't returning my phone calls, I want a hippopotamus for Christmas!" Joker yelled before breaking into a fit of giggles.

"What are you doing here?! How did you find me!?" The Dark Knight responded to the string of dribbles, causing the Prince to stand back slightly at the force. He brushed back a lock of his jade curls.

"That is just as relevant as whether or not my wife set the baby bottle heater on 120 or 180 before she died. The point is she's dead. That is extraneous and utterly irrelevant. The point is, I am here." The Joker declared.

Just drabbles. Just mindless drabbles he is using like marbles to test you.

There was no use in talking, if that is what it could be called. This transaction was not going anywhere and the Batman decided it was best to keep quiet.

"Perhaps I am going about this the wrong way. Hi, I am Joker, pleased to meetcha!" Joker swiped his hair back before he offered his left hand which was gloved in some purple leathery material. Bruce just stared ahead, not taking the offer.

"You know….it's rude to stare. Right? Do I have broccoli on my teeth is that it?" The harlequin added.

"This is getting old," Bruce said gruffly. Joker huffed and stomped back.

‑

"Well sorry," he said sourly. "I guess you can't make conversation with an iron jaw. Speaking of metal, that really hurt what you did to me at Gordie's office."

"It was the only way I could show you I wasn't playing. Unlike you, I don't carry around these delusions that I am bigger than the rest," the Batman said bitterly. Joker scoffed.

"I am not so sure about that. I mean, if a guy dresses up in uniform, doesn't that mean that he is trying to distinct himself from the monotony that is his environment, yes?"

"You are getting off topic," the Dark Knight said in a sardonic tone.

It was then that he felt a sharp piece of glass touch his throat.

"And I want to talk about what I want, so unless you want this piece of glass cutting across your trachea, heart and stomach, though not necessarily in that order, we are going to talk about what I want!" the Joker shot back.

Bruce felt the sharp jagged edge run across his throat. His heart rate increased slightly. He had hoped that that sharp piece of glass would not dare touch a delicate pulse area should it add pressure to it.

"And to make sure you don't try anything funny….." the Prince growled before he presented the weapon with which he used to destroy the windowpane, "I'm gonna use this little beauty to knock some sense into you."

Bruce could still see the smoke peer from the porthole of the gun.

"So don't even think about it," the clown said cryptically.

Batman then proceeded to move his hand slowly to the left to try and reach the safety alert system he had installed. Joker caught the sudden movement. Joker was a shark and like a great white in blood infested waters, he caught the scent.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. It's amazing what wonders what chloroform and a good rope can do. Don't worry about Jeeves, he's perfectly fine, though don't expect him to be awake until The View is on," Joker let out low chuckles. "Even geriatrics have their uses, whether it is stalling or nothing at all," Joker said with a watershed of cackles.

Bruce's face contorted into one of disgust and anger. How dare this madman enter in his most private sacred space and make a mockery of whatever he could?

"You're disgusting," Bruce spat out.

Joker stepped closer and looked at Bruce with his head turned sideways. He clasped his hands together and caressed the gun in his hands.

‑

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, love," Joker purred lowly. He stepped in front of the sitting Dark Knight who focused his sights straight ahead and not at the mauve clad man starring before him. "Even Frida Kahlo had no trouble bringing men into her bed. You see, I liken myself to Frida. We both are artists and we use our gifts to stand out and make a statement. Of course, unlike Frida I am taller, thinner and have a better grasp of perspection than she does!" Joker broke into a fit of cackles.

The Dark Knight's stomach began to churn. Joker caught the other man's less than enthusiastic response and shifted his body so that he would be in focus.

"You really need to relax. It's not good for the heart. It's bad for the cholesterol, though you look like you are in pretty good shape, so we don't have to worry about that." Joker said while running a finger across his lower lip as if he was inspecting a slave in the deep South.

Bruce still had not responded, only to poorly conceal a cough which barely made noise. This caught the Joker's attention.

"You really need to have those sinuses fixed. A good belly laugh can fix that," Joker did the most unexpected thing and pressed his hands a good portion onto the bed, supporting himself at a ninety degree angle. "I would like to show you how…." The Joker said suggestively.

"If you leave now, I promise I won't harm you," Bruce said stoically. The dialog was so wooden even the Prince himself did not buy it.

"But why? I was hoping that, you know, you and I can talk these things together!" He tilted his head to his side, as if he was trying to figure out a painting from Picasso. "I-I really want…to be your friend…." Joker said while he pressed himself forward, letting the Bat get a better look at the white faced jester from Hell.

I don't have any friends. I don't need any friends," Bruce said cryptically. Joker blew a raspberry.

"Liar liar, pants on fire! What about Gordie or Lucius Fox? What about your butler? If mommy and daddy aren't around aren't they at least your next best of kin?" Joker said in a low tone. It sent a shiver up Bruce's spine at how deep and sensuous it sounded. It reminded him of a cat purring.

"Those are my allies," Bruce sighed.

"But I want to be your friend," Joker stuttered. It was if he was also a bit shaken up by the trade. "I want to be something more…personal…"

Oh, he has got to be kidding….

‑

"You don't think you have done that already?" Bruce said angrily. "You don't think killing the judge, those cops, all those innocent people has made you a personal name in the list?"

"Yeah, I know it's a little out there, but it's the only way to get your attention. See, if I was a curator for the art exhibits at the Gotham Metropolitan Museum of Art, you wouldn't give two figs about me, wouldn't you? If I was the hot dog guy selling bratwurst on Downey Street you wouldn't care. See, you are a man of extremes," Joker said as he licked his lips. "And…I respect that. You see, a guy like you can only concentrate on other breeds that can match you in extremes. You really think I am gonna go back to chasing mobsters and cops?" Joker scoffed.

Joker leaned in forward and pressed his knees onto the bed. The Dark Knight did not so much as move an inch even with this agent of chaos who had the demeanor of an apex predator move closer.

"I….like our little game, okay? I don't want it to end, and I did mean it when I said that I don't wanna kill you…" Joker crawled over slowly. He stopped short and positioned himself on top of Bruce's shins. His face was only a few feet away from the Prince's.

It was then that Bruce got a better look at the clown's features. They were finely chiseled. His nose was aquiline and his eyes, which were a brilliant shade of jade, expressed a depth of range and beauty in them. If it wasn't for the makeup or the scars, Bruce would discern that Joker was a handsome looking man underneath all that rubbish and reputation. Part of him still could not believe that this was the same man responsible for Harvey's mutilation.

He was a monster

He was a criminal mastermind

He was a public menace

He killed Rachel

"You kill people. How do you expect me to forget that..?" Bruce added sourly.

"Can we not talk about third parties and just focus on us?" Joker said softly. His voice was almost human. It wasn't resonating like the loud bark he heard on the radial signal when the Clown tied up a man and snarled orders at him. He didn't like the sound of the psychotic harlequin who yelped like a sick dog half starved.

No. His tone was just above a whisper and when he felt those timbres grace his ears, his spine froze.

His throat lumped when he felt the Joker's idle hands run up and down between his thighs.

‑

"Sssshhhh," the Clown offered. "Just relax…" Joker said as he pressed his face closer and nuzzled the Dark Knight's human façade. Here was the legendary Batman naked and in his pure form in front of him. Here was the delicate shell that drove the Dark Avenger to go after that superstitious cowardly lot. Bruce breathed in to concentrate his heart rate to a slower beat when he felt the hot breath from the other man grace his neck and collarbone.

Bruce held fast to the sheets, trying not to let the Clown pin him down. He could not lose this fight. He had slipped up before, he was not about to concede to the Clown's wishes. The Pit of his stomach twisted from the discomfort of having a super predator get this close. Any moment, he could shoot as he was no match for the Joker's gun which sat close to his hand in the Joker's grasp. Instinctively, he sought to keep it in his place and reached his hand over to where the jester's gloved hand was pressed which was by his thigh at this point. He added pressure to the hand in a desperate attempt to distract him.

"S-stop," Bruce muttered. Joker ran a gloved hand by the other man's chin gently. The soft tender look in his eyes bespoke concern. Whether Joker was a good enough actor to convey such emotion didn't matter to him as he was trying to keep the gun away from him. One thing was for sure. They were a pair of the most beautiful forest colored eyes he had ever seen.

"No,no, no. I am in charge here," Joker said playfully as he adjusted his position from one on his knees and instead made it so that he straddled Bruce and sat on his hips instead. He now had his prey in his corner and the Prince smiled gleefully at his catch. Bruce let out a low moan at the touch. His concentration staggered and he blamed himself for losing control. He was always the chaser, the one who was dominating the fields. He was the alpha male, but tonight, Joker stripped him of that role and now he was pinned down by a mass murderer. Joker petted Bruce's cheeks, smiling to himself when he saw raw emotion peer out from those sea blue eyes beneath him.

"Jok-jo…?" Bruce said desperately and out of breath. He coughed again to clear his throat.

"Sssshhh, sometimes it's best not to ask questions, love. Sometimes things are the way they are," Joker said in a deep and low voice before he leaned back and massaged Bruce's thighs, gun still at hand. He let out a triumphant smile when he saw control ebb away from the other man's face. He had fallen from grace and he was at the mercy of the Prince. The exchange had gotten the best of him and he sought to be rid of his purple overcoat and tossed it to the side of the bed. Joker tossed the gun to the side as well.

Bruce got a better look at the other man's frame. He noticed that the Joker was very thin. His purple shirt and vest hinted at a build that was slender. He had a willowy frame that Bruce took note of and although his thighs were trim, they added pressure to his hips to keep him in place, straddling him.

Joker then placed his gloved hands onto the playboy's chest and ran a finger up and down the chiseled torso. Like a cat about to pounce on a big juicy rat, Joker leaned in, eying his prize. He had the BatMAN on a matress and below him. He had the Dark Knight in his grasp and now he was just a quivering little boy, begging to be saved. Joker took note of that vulnerability. He was fluid and like putty in his hands. The Prince would provide the perfect panacea for that.

‑

"You're still shaking," Joker said warningly.

"Pl-please…" the philanthropist begged.

"Why, you weren't complaining before?" Besides, this was better. If he wouldn't listen to what he had to say, perhaps then it was best to SHOW him that he meant business. The Joker then took the playboy's hand and pressed it to his chest.

"You feel that? There are only two things that make me go pa pum pa pum pa pum like that. Putting a bullet or a pencil in a guy's head and you. Think about that," Joker said with caution. His voice was low and intense. Red lips stretched into deep satisfaction as he felt the overwhelming sensations touch his body. He let out a low moan as he savored the moment. He added slow and steady motions onto his and the playboy's hips, creating a wave like movement between them. The sensations that acrued within his body took him by surprise. He had wanted this to happen but he didn't imagine it would feel so good.

Out of impulse, Bruce grabbed Joker's hip and held on for dear life. Joker's eyes popped open in surprise when he felt the other man reciprocate and proceeded to continue by adding his other hand by placing it on top of the other man's. Joker pressed his hips down towards Bruce's.

The Batman responded once again by running his hand from Joker's hip and placed it around Joker's beautiful swan like neck. He thumbed the bony jaw of the Clown. Joker let out a deep hum in his reply.

Bruce's thought processes were racing at a thousand miles per hour. On one hand, this felt like an outer body experience and another part of him was dormant and was only responding to the touches yielded by the Joker. At this point, he had forgotten about the smoking weapon that was responsible for the mess on his floor.

It was then that the Joker did the unthinkable and stretched his body over Bruce's and shifted his position. What he did next came as no surprise as previous moments transpired have shown. Joker leaned down and pressed his lips down onto the Dark Knight's, taking possession of him. The Knight breathed in deeply as he relished the touch from the Clown's lips. It wasn't unlike what he had experienced before with other women. This wasn't about the gun or whatever diabolical plan Joker cooked up. This was just about them and now. For too long, he had been wired to be prepared to leap and have the alertness of a cat. But then, at what point would it cross when it came to paranoia? He was then the predator who was reduced to the prey. He did not want to explore the idea further and instead threw himself into the exchange. He could smell that sweet cologne breech his nostrils. This just was. He then countered Joker's deed by running his hands up and down the Prince's back. For a few moments, both enemies made a connection that could not be breached by morals and other cerebral matters. Their bodies were doing the talking. Joker moaned into the other man's mouth before he pulled back.

"You're still tense. Stop it," Joker ordered. Their breaths were mingling in within the space between their faces.

"Joker….please…." Bruce begged.

‑

"Has this big bad bat lost it? Has he gotten weakened on the knees?" Joker said in a low teasing manner.

"Joker," Bruce coughed.

"Did your balls drop off? What happened?" Joker said in a sardonic and yet, tender manner. He petted the mass of jet black hair. He sighed to himself. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Too soon maybe?" Joker said to himself before exhaling loudly. He then progressed to leaning back and removing himself from on top of Bruce. He picked up his trench coat and grabbed his gun.

"I really wanted to play with you, but I can't play with a man who doesn't have fire in his belly," Joker said acridly. "That's not fun."

He then made his way to the door and reached for the knob and turned it.

"My offer still stands, love," Joker said gently before blowing a kiss. "You think about that next time you hear about my antics on the evening news. Ciao." Joker replied.

On that note, the Prince disappeared, leaving the Dark Knight in his room. He pondered at the obscure words uttered by the Prince. Did they have weigh? Was he serious as he was for the first time tonight or was it a ploy that he almost fell for? Whatever it was, he was gone now.

He got himself out of the bed, trying to avoid the debris. He turned on a lamp on the western corner of his bedroom and it was then that he found a surprise. Two cards on the floor. A memento, but why?

Upon closer inspection he saw that they were a Queen of Hearts and a Joker card. Bruce studied the souvenirs for a few seconds before he placed them in his pockets. What had transpired this night was just as mysterious as why the Clown Prince left a keepsake in his own house. Perhaps this was one of those things that were best kept secret, from himself especially. Whether or not the harlequin was sincere in his request was not relevant, but one thing was for sure and was the only bit of truth that he said all evening.

You think about that next time you hear about my antics on the evening news

The Joker had won that night, even if he fell short on his goal. Bruce squeezed the cards in his pocket.

He almost had him

He almost got 'im.

Fin


End file.
